Creative nonfiction writing is what I have been paid to do for two years. Now, I’m raising the stakes, piecing together discoveries that explain my father’s secretive, incomprehensible behavior. Returning to Cyprus, the scene of his last mission, I came to realize why he couldn’t even remember the name of the street we had lived on, just months after our hasty return to the states. Unexpectedly, I discovered that my father died three times. I’ve also come to learn about how our memory, our reality and our perceptions can be manipulated unless we share the secrets we uncover. I hope that my memoir Token Yank sheds new light on how Cyprus became a divided island.